


A Bird in a Cage

by 2blue2berry



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Comfort, Cuddles, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, One Shot, Reyes deserves a best boyfriend award, Reyes is an amazing boyfriend who loves Scott like a dummy, They love each other so much, Trans Male Character, Trans Scott Ryder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2blue2berry/pseuds/2blue2berry
Summary: Scott hits an all time low and Reyes is right by his side through it all, even if it means abandoning work.(Trans Day of Visibility was a couple of days ago, so I know I'm late, but! here's what I got)





	A Bird in a Cage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hose0kk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hose0kk/gifts).



> WARNING!! Descriptions of Gender Dysphoria that might be triggering to some readers. I based this off a personal event of my own with my own GD

_ “Pathfinder, I sincerely advise you to rest and lay down, your emotional state—” _

 

“SAM, please. Just — leave me alone.” He knows he’s a chaotic mess the moment it hits him -- anarchic actions that left him with hot tears down his cheeks. Scott stood bare with nothing but the constricting binder -- which he has obviously over worn than what was considered healthy -- and briefs that hugged his hips in all the wrong ways. The mirror of his wardrobe stood in front of him.

 

He feels like a bird in a cage, shaking on the iron bars with no sight of some golden key. The reflection in the mirror is a stranger to him. The face is familiar, but the slightest curve of his hips and his thighs seem all wrong, flawed. Oh, how he hates this. He wants to smash the mirror, watch those glass pieces crack and scatter like dangerous autumn leaves. But Scott’s immobilized, frozen like a marble statue, and cries. He cries, and he cries until his throat burns and aches. Until his chest heaves, and he has no other choice but to shove his head in his hands, sparing the haunted glance at the reflection. 

 

He knows the other crew members are worried, SAM has pestered him about it since this morning, but he just denied all effort to even  _ try _ to open the door to his quarters. The last time he’s been like this was over 600 years ago, back in the Milky Way. Since cryo, he’d been filled with distractions; Alec’s death, becoming the new Pathfinder, viability levels, outposts, Reyes.

 

_ Reyes _ . 

 

That voice, that  _ timbre _ , that  _ touch _ he longs for. That sly devil would know precisely what to do -- coo sweet names, coax the aching in his mentality to ease -- all with just pretty words and chaste kisses. But the Charlatan was off with his own businesses, smuggling here, smuggling there. Scott knew Reyes simply didn’t have the luxury of dropping all of his work, even if he did control it all from a shady bar in the slums. And Scott also had his mountains of emails and reports to analyze, but he ignored those all as soon as he woke up. 

 

“ _ Scott, your heart rate and blood pressure are increasing, I suggest--” _

 

“SAM, I’m begging you, leave me be.” No response. Hopefully that meant the AI had silenced. He remembers 600 years ago when he didn’t have SAM, when he’d cry in the shower without the private channel connected to him like there was now. Where there’d be only rushing water or the sounds of him pleading for air through sobs. It wasn’t such a bad change. It shocked him a bit into reality knowing someone-- some _ thing _ \-- was there beside him.

 

Back on Earth, Scott was scared. Alec Ryder was an extremely talented man. He was bold, powerful, strong, diplomatic, wise, and all the above. Scott didn’t want to disappoint or humiliate someone of such a high standard. His father had expectations, and the public did too. It wasn’t until just before launch he saved up enough money to start injections that, thankfully, were regularly inserted into his frozen body for 600 years so his chemical balance and thawing weren’t too difficult (he still has to thank Dr. T’Perro for the daily vitamin C, too). But being turned into basically ice doesn’t mean your body mass instantaneously shifts. Only as of recently, the flesh of his hips had been filling out into a desired shape, but there was still a foreign sensation when taking a glance at the still faint curve. 

 

The waterfall that poured from his eyes dried out, but stained his cheeks both red and wet. He palmed them away, rubbing and dragging his face to dry it off, but he still looked awful. Scott was truly a disaster. He could feel the sorrowful wave evaporate into something worse. Anxiety. It welled his blue eyes up again with more tears, and his heart raced. His fingernails felt carved into his palms at this point, clutching and tensing up with every inhale. 

 

_ Why is this happening? _

 

_ Why do I look like that? _

 

_ It isn’t right. _

 

_ This is a mistake. _

 

_ Who is that? _

 

_ “Why _ ,” Scott shuddered out with heaving shoulders that shook with intensity. The Pathfinder could barely finish it. Every sound after came out as choked and mushed. Despise of this helpless feeling boiled and rushed in his veins. He hated that vulnerability, but he was alone. He was alone and couldn’t do anything except hug his body as if he could hide it away and cry. SAM wasn’t needed to know that his stress was increasing, the empty ache as if bricks lay atop a hollow shell in his chest was enough. 

 

_ Stop, _ He told himself.

 

_ Stop. _

 

_ Stop-- _

 

_ Bang. _ There was a knock at the door. It silenced whatever weep strained to be released and drew Scott’s attention towards it. Unable to search for words, Scott listened to the sudden return of SAM in his head.

 

“ _ It is Mr. Vidal, Pathfinder.” _

 

* * *

 

Kadara Port was bustling and crowded, as it usually is. Leave to a single fussy bastard and your day could go shitty depending on your personality. Which is why Reyes Vidal preferred being in the shadows. It was a personal room he had in Tartarus where he didn’t have to bother with the fickle bastards that protested and whined about the recent events of Sloane Kelly. It was a shame how such a bitch could be missed, but people will be people.

 

Reyes scrolled through reports and emails, thoroughly reading over business -- and by business he meant  _ smuggling _ \-- deals and Resistance updates. What he wouldn’t give to see Scott right now. Baby blue eyes and soft brown hair that couldn’t be more perfect. Hell, any part of his boyfriend was perfect. That’s why it scared him when he got a new email after his third refresh. 

 

It was from SAM,

 

_ Urgency _

_ To: Reyes Vidal _

_ From: SAM _

 

_ The Pathfinder’s mental state is degrading and has been since this morning. He has stubbornly refused any counsel towards improvement, which is why I have resorted to requesting contact behind his back. _

 

_ Please come at once, _

_ SAM _

 

It aches with worry, for something written by an AI, so it impacts Reyes worse. He was informed that the Tempest docked yesterday, but since this morning there’s been no notice or visual of the Pathfinder. Reading it over once, twice, thrice, didn’t help his worry at all. Reyes needed to leave and he needed to hurry. Ugh, god, he knew this day felt off. The absence of replies to emails and any activity in general of Scott was suspicious enough and now SAM contacting him? It terrifies him, and propels him to leave at once.

 

Based on the look of the frequent drunks and passersby, he ran fast with swift persistence. Racing down stairs of the slums and digging his feet into the dirt, Reyes ran. Muttered words of urgency fell from his mouth when he jammed his fingertips on the lift’s control panel. 

 

“Come on... Come on…” He was restless and anxious, as if his foot tapping wasn’t enough to prove it. Reyes stepped — more like lept — onto the lift when it’s slow descent finally arrived, awaiting the bright light of the Kadaran sun to pour out. He could bask in the rays later — Scott was his priority. 

 

When approaching the intricate spacecraft that remained parked in the docking bay, the view of the crew member Cora settles in. Her shortly cropped blonde hair glowed a holy white. Upon noticing his arrival, her face twisted with concern in every muscle. Only when he stopped he realized how bad he was. His hands jittered and started to fidget with the brown gloves on his hands. Pinching and pressing on the empty spaces he made when he plucked them up and down. But only one thing was on his mind. Scott. So many things could’ve happened to him in the span of half of a day. Given the Pathfinder was secluded in his ship, his conclusion could only lead to one thing, and he didn’t fancy it too much. 

 

“Reyes,” Cora started, walked towards him. “Thank god you’re here. Scott--”

 

“Where is he,” He cut her off fast. The sooner he got access inside the Tempest the better.

 

“Quarters. Hasn’t left since this morning. Locked the door and everything.” Enough information received, but the palm on his shoulder signaled him to rest, to calm. “He needs you Reyes. He hasn’t responded to any of us, but maybe he will to you.” Cora tells him.

 

_ Here’s to hoping _ , his mind replied, but hushed when entering the spacecraft. The Tempest never ceased to astound any who’ve taken passage. Intricate and precise engineering that made it the modern beauty she is. There’s been few times he recalls witnessing the collage of space dust and galactic elegance with the astounding view provided, and it left him jaw-dropped and aghast each time. When nights were calm and work wasn’t overflowing, Reyes and Scott would obverse each stellar cluster like small children stargazing. 

 

The wide metal door to the Pathfinder’s Quarters stood before him, brooding with menacing gray hardware. Scott was in there, and when Reyes careful pressed his ear against the cool alloy, was without a doubt, a mess. Balled fists and the welled up panic in his chest was all he needed to give a hard and loud knock at the door.  _ Come on, come on. _

 

One.

 

Two.

 

No answer. In such a concerning dismay, Reyes paced back and forth. His knees wanted to go wobbly, to buckle and shake with that swelling knot inside him. He shouldn’t have left out for Kadara Port last night, should’ve groaned a ‘good morning’ to the body next to him in bed instead. Should’ve been there since the moment Scott woke up. Should’ve--

 

The door slide open with a metallic  _ hiss _ . Then a sniffle. Scott, oh, beautiful, precious Scott. 

 

“Reyes...?” It was a weakness in the voice, infecting each syllable with a sting that rung out. The boy before him wasn’t the outstanding, professional savior the Pathfinder was. He was broken. He was shattered glass that was given a shitty repair that didn’t even remotely reshape him as the remarkable man he’s seen countless times. Tears were dried and stained his face against the swell of his red eyes that puffed with the same hue of his cheeks. 

 

Clad in the worn out binder and black briefs he owned, Scott was paralyzed. Red marks in the skin of his hips that dragged from fingernails could be visible, along with the dips in his shoulders that were also a result of his grip as if he had been clinging to himself the entire day in seek of comfort. 

 

“Oh,  _ cariño… _ ” The tragedy of seeing Scott like this bit at his heart with sharp and unforgiving teeth. Reyes approached with a steady rhythm, slow and cautious steps. How could he not have been there sooner?

 

Scott could barely get out words. The pile of clothes he kicked away look like they have been that way for too long, as if they belonged there. How long has Scott been torturing himself with the cursed mirror in front of him? “Reyes I--” No. Reyes couldn’t hear that. That crack in his voice that echoed and begged for release, for comfort, for  _ help _ . So he hushed him, soft and soundly, and took the Pathfinder into his arms. He could feel the body heat seeping into his hands even through his gloves, and held tight.

 

“Shh,  _ mi amor _ . Tell me how I can help.” Smooth and gentle words persuade an answer from Scott, and Reyes helps the words fall out. Light and frail touches rub the shuddering spine of the man in his arms, the man who buried his head in the crook of the Charlatan’s neck. He could tell Scott started crying when his shoulders trembled.

 

“S-Stay… Just --  _ stay _ .” Scott quivered and latched his grip to his boyfriend’s coat, tight and anxious and  _ scared. _

 

Reyes chuckled softly. “As if I weren’t planning on it already.” He pressed gentle kisses into Scott’s slicked brown hair, peppering what he could reach of his temple, too. He felt Scott’s arms bend around his neck to embrace him warmly, Reyes complying with his hands settling around the other’s waist, careful of the nail marks. They remained like that for a few minutes, holding each other close enough to feel heartbeats. 

  
When Reyes pulled away, eyes immediately locked with the sky blue ones before him, he maneuvered his palms to curve and hold Scott’s scruffy and wet face. He wiped away the stray tears that fled from those eyes he loved dearly and pecked Scott’s forehead. “I love you very much, _ hermoso _ , and that’s why it pains me to watch you like this. Let me take care of you today, I won’t leave your side.”

 

“But, Reyes, your work--”

 

“Stockpiles of emails don’t matter. What matters now is  _ you _ , Ryder.” As though it were possible to compare how many fucks he gave about work juxtaposed to Scott’s health. He wanted to kiss him, to ease away pain with tender affection, but Scott was frail, and Reyes was sure to never kindle the spark that was Scott’s discomfort. Yet, when that beautiful, although tear-stained, face leaned up into his, he dived right in. The kiss remained as electric as all those before, yet this one was chaste and sweet with hidden words behind it. If observing wasn’t enough, their kiss only supported how dehydrated Ryder was. It was on his mouth, his lips, and ought to be taken care of. And when his hands came into contact with the dark gray binder, he could feel the dip where it has been digging in from hours of usage. 

 

“How about we take it easy. Do you have a place where you keep blankets, maybe somewhere to brew some tea?” Reyes tugged on the binder, eying Scott with a stern look in his eyes.  _ I’m not letting your ribs break on my watch, _ he seemed to speak without words. 

 

Hesitant, Scott answered. “Yeah. There’s a little basket in the corner over there and I think the galley has a kettle.” Nothing to brew within the quarters? It was upsetting to Reyes, given he would have to leave the room and leave Scott, but the boy needed something to drink. 

 

First, he jogged to the relatively small and stout hamper that harbored a handful of blankets that poured out the sides. Cotton, wool, gray, blue, white. All looked pleasing to the touch, but the velvety red blanket appealed to Reyes the most. Tugging it out of the corners it was tucked into under the mass of other blankets was more difficult than anticipated, but the job got done. When upon returning to Scott, Reyes spread out what he could of the large blanket and wrapped his love in a crimson cocoon. He almost snorted aloud at the purely adorable way Scott nuzzled himself into the warmth. 

 

Next was the tea, which hopefully wouldn’t take long. 

 

“Reyes?” Scott mumbled through the layer of synthetic fiber. 

 

Reyes stopped in his tracks, peering over his shoulder to look at Scott. “Yes?” 

 

“Chamomile, please.” The return of that smile, while exhausted as it was, brought joy to Reyes.

 

“Of course,  _ cariño. _ ” 

 

The titanium door slid with a high whistle, closing instantly after. Upon entry of the galley, right away his outlook was recognizing where the kettle was. The black self-heating electric kettle was small and perched on the corner of the countertop, fresh with clean water. It took a flick of a button to start its boiling, a hushed hum echoing from its core. Now all was left was finding a mug of an appropriate size and a tea bag. He remembers reading somewhere that Chamomile contained healthy, non caffeinated properties that relieve stress and anxiety. Something about the bisabolol or flavonoids, maybe. Several open drawers later revealed the sorted and organized tea bag storage, each section a variety of flavors and remedies. Perfect timing, for the kettle ceased its low rumble and finished boiling. Steaming water in the mug, tea bag in the liquid, and then steep and wait. It wasn’t so hard. Well, it proved more of a challenge, of course, with the urgency of returning. 

 

When two minutes struck the clock, Reyes threw the shriveled tea bag away and grabbed a fistful of sweetener packets in case Scott preferred it his tea a tooth-rotting kind of sweet.  _ Don’t forget the spoon _ , he had to remind himself and dipped the utensil in the beverage. A flood of reassurance washed over him when the Scott-shaped mass sat at the edge of the bed. 

 

“One hot Chamomile tea -- and before you say anything -- I was sure to grab some sugar on the way out.”

 

“Now, I knew I found the perfect man in all of Andromeda, but I didn’t know he was a mind reader.” Scott’s arms emerged from the blanket around him, palms cupped and reaching for the mug. 

 

“I have my perks.” Reyes took purchase next to Scott, watching him blow lightly at the rising steam. The bed sank slightly, but the two remained quiet and still. “Scott, you know you can tell me anything; if you’re comfortable doing so, that is.” The mood shifted with that sentence, you could feel it heavy in the air.

 

Ryder lowered the mug into his lap and sighed. “It’s been hard since cryo. I woke up, and my body’s just now adapting to the testosterone injections. My voice altered a lot faster, of course, but I guess with the body frozen for so long body mass can’t spread around like it’s supposed to, even for 600 years. I guess it’s just catching up to me. Sure, this whole Pathfinder thing got me sidetracked and focused on something other than my body, but I just -- I couldn’t -- I--”

 

“Scott,” Reyes rubbed the hand he placed on his thigh with tender care. “Don’t continue if you can’t.” But the other shook his head, fumbling with the spoon in his cup as stimulation. 

 

“No, I’m okay. I’ll be fine. It all just -- crashed down, I guess. I tried to face it, tried to be  _ strong _ . Tried to prove that I’m okay. So I stripped down and looked at myself in the mirror… I’m pretty sure you know where it heads after that… Just having one of those days.” His words were followed by a nervous laugh, as if that would ease Reyes’ worry.

 

He lets Scott take a sip of his tea in silence until he thinks of an idea. He plucked the mug from the Pathfinder’s hands and sets it down on a nearby nightstand -- maybe a coffee table? Reyes didn’t care to take in that detail because by the time he reappeared by Scott’s side, he fell back, belly up, onto the bed. In Scott’s confusion, Reyes leaned up to hook his arms underneath his shoulders and let gravity drag them down.

 

“Reyes what are yo- Ah!” Scott yelped in surprise, clinging onto the blanket that slipped past his shoulders. It showed a flash of the gray binder still tight around his chest. 

 

When they flopped onto their backs and the bed finally ceased shaking, Reyes shifted to his side, facing Scott’s back. The face Ryder had looked upset at the sudden leap, but the cheshire grin Reyes held made his eyes roll playfully. “You could’ve warned me, or just tell me you wanted to lay down.”

 

“But then it wouldn’t be as fun.” The Charlatan purred, scooting closer to Scott with eagerness. It was like a blooming heat in his heart that made it feel as if he fell in love all over again. A warmth in his chest that sent a melodic trill through his body as the sweet music of passionate adoration surged in a song. Without any delay, Reyes reached over to wrap his arms around the soft blanket that draped around his boyfriend’s body. 

 

Scott could feel the peppered kisses on his shoulder and back and almost turned around until Reyes spoke again. “My handsome boy. Perfect, handsome, irresistible Scott. Your hair is so neatly slicked back.” He slid his hands over each of the Pathfinder’s features as he complimented them.

 

“Those blue eyes of yours remind me of the oceans back home, so rough and stunning. Your shoulders so broad, so  _ strong _ . Your face so etched and perfectly design like a goddamn  _ statue _ . So masculine and rugged. It never ceases to amaze me how I can fall in love with you over and over on repeat without fail.” He trailed on and babbled with his nose against the flesh of Scott’s neck, occasionally kissing the skin between words. Each pebble of anxiety that gathered in Ryder’s stomach slowly chipped away, and he couldn’t help but tilt his head back to smile at Reyes.

 

“You’re such a sap.” It was a scoff that fell from his mouth after, but Scott smiled sweetly nonetheless.

 

“But I’m your sap, right?” Reyes tugged on the tip of the blanket until he was given access to curl up under it next to Scott.

 

“Yes, you’re my annoyingly sappy, what-did-I-do-to-deserve-you, boyfriend. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The shared warmth between them was comforting, like a haven where Scott didn’t need to be reminded of the turmoil inside of him. Where he felt at bay, at peace, at  _ home _ . 

 

“Thank you,” Scott muttered between the cloth of the blanket. “Thank you for this, Reyes. For the tea, the blanket, the comfort. And not even that. Thank you for always being there. For loving me, for accepting me. Hell, thank you for  _ existing _ .” Scott spilled it all out, words he’s been trying to translate from his thoughts for days and days. He could feel the arms around him grow tighter as Reyes embraced him in a hug. 

 

“Then I should thank you for making me a better man. I take it you’re feeling better?”

 

“Much better because of you… If anything I think some of that tea relaxed me a lot too…” His eyes fluttered open-and-shut, like a scale deciding if he should sleep or not. He was very emotionally drained, after all.

 

“Are you going to sleep,  _ cariño _ ?”

 

“Probably…” He snuggled comfortably in the clasp of Reyes, who curved around him in a perfect fit.

 

“Binder,  _ mi amor _ .” Reyes reminded him, grinning foolishly.

  
“What? Oh.  _ OH!” _

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say that this fic was comforting to write because I was able to express some of my own experiences in it with self inserting on Scott a BUNCH which, I apologize, he might be a bit OOC,, 
> 
> This idea first came with the thought of "Are Sara and Scott identical?" So in this they are, which is why Scott is trans.


End file.
